An Ever Fixed Mark
by mYcAtCh22
Summary: The night the Dark Mark hovered over Hogwarts. I will always remember it as the night that a great Wizard died and an even greater friendship was born. I will always remember it as the night my whole world changed. HPSS slash post HBP REVIEW!
1. Fact and Opinion

**Rating: M**

**Warnings: Slash, HPSS (be patient!)**

**Summary: There are certain things in this world you can't change. Who you are in the eyes of other people, _that_ is one thing that you can. slash HPSS post-HBP not totally HBP compliant**

**A/N: Ok, i am back for another go!! please review everyone, a story needs readers and its author thrives on reviews!!!**

**and a dead author just sucks writing fics. or so i hear. :)**

_Harry Potter_

The spring before I turned eleven, when I was still unaware of my magical origin, I still attended the same public school as Dudley. I remember how I used to pay attention in those classes like my life depended on it. And well, at that time, my life did depend on it; I though my only ticket out of the hell-hole that was my life was through college. And how the hell was I supposed to get accepted to a university if I was flunking out of middle school?

So I busted my arse a bit and pulled through most of my classes with A's. Geography, History, Literature… I had it all down to a science. Every subject was just another piece of information I would swallow up and spit back out in my test answers. I was a model student. The only drawbacks, of course, were the beatings I took from Dudley and his friends almost daily, and my extremely low self-esteem.

I was a scrawny nerd with no friends, the picture perfect loser. And then, wouldn't you know it, I make a wish and POOF! I'm a wizard! It's almost like a fairy tale.

During that spring semester, my English teacher taught us a lesson that has changed my view of life in general. We were learning about the difference between "fact" and "opinion".

"An opinion," my teacher said, "is something that you believe to be true, and a fact is something that is true whether or not you believe it."

After that day, I started thinking about situations and putting things into perspective. For example, that day that I met Hagrid, this is what was going through my head.

Fact: Hagrid is the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Opinion: That's the longest effing title I've ever heard.

The truth is that my entire life has been based on this system of Fact and Opinion; I've lived my life around the things that I want to happen and the fate that awaits me- the things that are eternal and the things that change so quickly that before you get a chance to enjoy them, they turn around and morph into something unrecognizable; the ever-fixed marks and the schizophrenic blots of emotion that smudge the canvas of my life.

My entire life has been based on one fact: I have a mission to save the world from evil. My opinion about the whole situation is that the world is too consumed by that evil to ever be saved. Even if I kill Voldemort, there will always be another form of terror waiting in the wings to follow in his footsteps and complete what he couldn't.

Fact: I am Harry Potter

Opinion: It sucks to be me.

_HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS_

In my fifth year of Hogwarts, a change in me occurred. Though not entirely unexpected, it did come as quite a shock at first. The betrayal that I had lived through, the madness, the destruction, the pain, it all seemed to collect itself into this one area of my heart and pulsated with a vengeance, to the point where the would be times that my heart would ache so furiously, it would shut my brain off to what was right and I would so something incredibly stupid.

I started taking Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape to protect myself from the mind-invasions that the Dark Lord was ambushing me with most nights. The fear of Voldemort penetrating my thoughts started a hot sweat enough for me to risk the extra time I would need to spend in those cold dungeons.

It wasn't until after the first few lessons that I really understood the meaning of the phrase, "Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game." I was terrified of not being capable of the challenges Occlumency would pose for me. I didn't want to feel incompetent, and I was sick of making a fool of myself in front of Snape time and time again. I would prove to him that I was not just my father's son, not just the hot-heated Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Fucking-Die; I was Harry Potter, and that was all.

I wasn't supposed to be particularly brave or spectacular. The fact that the fate of the entire world, magical and not, rested on my shoulders wasn't a reason for his torment; it was an excuse, and I was sick of it. I would show that Potions Master with a poll up his ass that I could do anything I put my mind to. I would try my hardest to be good enough. I would not fail. But I don't think a bit of Remus's chocolate would've done any harm before those lessons.

The first time that I noticed the change in myself was during an especially taxing session about halfway through my fifth year. Snape was probing my mind without mercy, and I was losing energy faster than you could say, "Legilimens!" The pulsing ache in my heart rose to a level of no return, and I was lost to its power. In other words, I was screwed.

I gripped my wand with a sweaty, shaking hand, and turned to face my Professor once more.

"LEGILIMENS!" he shouted, and I did the only thing I could think of without collapsing.

"PROTEGO!" I screamed, and focused all of my energy into repelling his curse. I knew as soon as the words left my mouth that it was a stupid decision, and when his own memories started moving through my brain, I realized how much trouble I was in for.

As it turns out, Occlumency lessons weren't the greatest idea for me or Professor Snape, and so we stopped them. In my sixth year, we both feared that we might have to start them again, and the fear was a valid one. Dumbledore insisted that I should continue what he called my "training" if I wanted to defeat the Dark Lord. Of course I wanted to kill the bastard! But I didn't really want to spend meaningless time with my other arch-nemesis either. I tried not to think about what I had seen in his Pensieve… the torture that my father and Sirius put him through, the shame it must have brought upon him. I was plagued by the notion that Snape hated me because of my father; that when he looked at me, all he saw was James Potter's son. I was just a shell, an echo of my father, and I couldn't rid myself of that reputation.

Fact: Severus Snape hated my father

Opinion: He had every right to.

The more time I spent with him, though, the more I discovered how great a man Severus Snape really was. He had had, possibly, the most difficult life imaginable. After a few sessions, I was able to look into his mind without using the 'protego' spell, and I discovered a few things. One, his father was abusive, angry and drunk practically always. His mother was a genius and, though she loved her son, she hated her husband more and left them both when Snape was 10. Later, her own husband tracked her down and killed her. Even magic couldn't save her from his torture. Oh, and she left her wand at home in her hurry to escape him.

I know that it's wrong to like a person out of pity, but mid-way through my sixth year, my feelings towards the man began to change. He wasn't that bad, if you got to know him. The problem was that he guarded his emotions so well, he seemed angry all the time, and this just repelled anyone who might've wanted to. Severus Snape was like a jigsaw puzzle. At first glance, nothing about him makes sense. But then, when you begin to painstakingly take the time to put the pieces together, you'll find you've discovered a beautiful picture and everything you've doubted will fit.

And then he murdered Albus Dumbledore.

There's always this part of me that tries to find the best in people, no matter what the situation. Usually, my irrational emotions win out, though, and I judge people only on what I see. What I saw that night was an angry murderer, filled with hate, determined to set a score. Perhaps if I would've known the whole story, I might have seen, too, the fear in said man's eyes, the regret. Maybe I would have realized that the hatred Severus showed was not towards Albus Dumbledore, but towards the task that he had commanded Snape to do.

Nevertheless, I was basically clueless. The only information that I had was useless, because nothing fit together. Malfoy was assigned a task by Lord Voldemort to kill Dumbledore. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't. I saw, with my own eyes, how close Draco was to lowering his wand and surrendering to the light before the other Death Eaters arrived on the roof of the Astronomy Tower. I saw how close we were to victory. I stood helplessly by as the man who I was just beginning to think might actually be trustworthy kill my mentor in cold blood. I saw everything, and yet, I was so blind to it all. Nothing is what is seems.

Fact: Severus Snape killed Albus Dumbledore

Opinion: He wanted to.

That's chapter one :) i know a bit of a cliffy and not too exciting yet but dont worry- the drama is coming!!! review!!!


	2. Lesson Number One

**A/n: REVIEW!!!!**

**Disclaimer: i dont own anything. Dont shoot me.**

**Chapter Two- Lesson Number One**

Sometimes, in the dead of the winter, there will be a day of totally confusion for all those who chose to remain inside their houses. Looking our their windows, they'll see a crisp, clear sky of a breathtakingly blue color, and they'll be so convinced that it's ninety degrees and sunny outside with birds chirping and a soft breeze blowing; they would never guess, in their wildest dreams, that it is really below 30 degrees and that a biting wind is blowing, a frigid combination. Then they'll see the bare branches of the trees and realize that no, it's still freezing cold outside, it's still the middle of January, and there's no chance they'll be visiting the beach anytime soon.

I always thought of Severus Snape as the those bare trees blowing in the wind of his own self-pity. I would be having a perfectly good day, swimming in a sea of ecstasy, fantasizing about warm summer days and Quidditch practice, when suddenly I would look up and there he'd be, swooping down on me, the bat of the dungeons.

"Potter!" Today was one of those days, apparently. "Have you no sense? Your cauldron has been bubbling for close to 10 minutes!"

Sure enough, my Draught of the Living Dead looked more like the Draught of Big Bird on Sesame Street. It had turned, much to my dismay, the brightest color of yellow imaginable, and I knew I had screwed up because the book said the potion would be "so dark as to be likened to the color of a stormy night sky." Great.

"I would appreciate it, Potter, if you could pay attention in class, and save your presumably boring day dreams for another time."

"Sorry, sir," I mumbled, my eyes downcast.

"If you don't shape up and show some respect if not for me than for this subject, I'm afraid I'm going to have to throw you out of this class."

Ok, he was overdoing it now. It's not like I spaced out on a daily basis, and it certainly didn't hold any contempt for the subject matter, just the professor.

The bell rang, saving me from any more unnecessary admonishment, and Snape dismissed the class. I was packing up my things, eager to get washed up for dinner, when he called my name.

"Potter," he said, "Please remain behind for a moment." It wasn't a request. It was an order.

"Yes, sir," I said. Hermione and Ron looked at me questioningly, and I told them to go on ahead of me. I would meet up with them later, in the Great Hall. Once they had left, I made my way to the front of the room.

"Sir?"

"Mr. Potter, please have a seat." That was two "pleases" in a row. Wow, Professor, your manners certainly have improved over the summer!

When I was seated in one of the front row desks, a seat which I had always loathed and avoided and at all costs, Snape continued.

"It has been Professor Dumbledore's desire, for some time now, that I continue giving you Occlumency lessons," Snape's words hung like a bombshell in the air. He waited for them to sink in.

"He-he- what?" I could not believe it. MORE Occlumency?

"But, sir, I thought we were done with the Occlumency. I thought we both decided that it-that it wasn't really working." The truth was, I knew, that Snape just didn't want my bratty nose poking into his personal memories, or his pensieve.

"The Headmaster wishes that we continue your training in other areas as well, such as self defense and more complex jinxes and hexes than you've been taught in your years here. He claims I am the most fitting figure to do this task, though I strongly disagree and told him as much. But, as you know, he is a stubborn old man and he will not budge. So, you are to meet me weekly-" my jaw dropped- "Yes, weekly, Potter, we're not playing games here. As I was saying, you are to meet me for your lessons in my private rooms every Wednesday night." I opened my mouth to protest but Snape held up his hand. "Should this schedule ever conflict with your Quidditch practices, we will see to it that it is altered somewhat."

We stared at each other for a moment; both of us were aware of how much it would please Snape to have Slytherin beat Gryffindor at the Quidditch Cup just because of lack of practice. I was also Team Captain in my sixth year, so if I couldn't make it to a practice, no one else would show up either.

"However," Snape continued, "we will not begin the training until I am satisfied, or rather, until Dumbledore is satisfied, that you are as skilled as you should be at Occlumency. Believe me Potter, nobody wishes this wasn't the case more than I. Your first session begins this Wednesday. I expect you to be there, as the Quidditch season has not yet begun. Any other thing you might think of to get out of this is not an excuse. This is a war, Potter. I'm not sure you understand what that means, but I do know that you can comprehend your role in it all." He paused here, waiting for me to say something. This was odd; he usually hated my input.

"Yes, sir, I do know my place. Waking up with the weight of the world on your shoulders isn't exactly the easiest thing to ignore. I know what I have to do."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Very well," he said, "You may go. Wednesday night, 7 p.m. sharp. Don't be late."

_**HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS**_

Wednesday night, after dinner, I dragged myself down to the dungeons with a quick, "good luck!" from Ron and Hermione. They had listened sympathetically as I complained to them about having to continue the Occlumency torture-sessions with Snape, but in the end they both agreed it was for the best. Stupid people. I was halfway down the hall to Snape's office before I remembered his words of Monday morning.

"You are to meet me for your lessons in my private rooms every Wednesday night".

But where the hell were Snape's private rooms?! Was already a minute late, and Snape was viciously exact about his appointments with students, whether they be detentions or lessons. Shit. I was already in trouble and we hadn't even started.

_**HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS**_

Potter was late. Again. He always managed to take every bad situation and make it worse, somehow. It was bad enough that Albus insisted I continue to train the brat, without me having to take even more time out of my night for him. I loved Albus to death, really I did, but sometimes that crackpot old fool really got on my nerves. The lengths to which he would go for this war…But he had insisted it wasn't only the war on his mind when he thought of this specific diabolical scheme to irk me. He said he needed his two most important men to _get along_ in order to win this war. Get along? Who was he kidding?? I'm telling you, sometimes I wonder what the Muggles put into those lemon drops. I was sitting comfortably in my favorite chair in my sitting room when I realized that of course Potter was late; I had not told him where my rooms were! Oh, well, I was the Professor, and I could always claim and I had, in fact, gave him specific directions to my chambers and he had simply chosen to ignore them. And then, of course, I would deduct points. Ah, the evil privileges of being a teacher. A few minutes later, there was a knock at my door.

It was a strange, urgent sort of knock, that begged for entrance yet was soft enough to show that the person on the other side was apprehensive of what lay beyond, and would probably have sighed deeply with relief had the door not been answered at all. It was a knock that later changed to a more sure-of-itself bang, then to nothing, as eventually Harry Potter wouldn't even need to knock.

"Mr. Potter," I acknowledged as I opened the door, "so nice of you to show up. You're late." Something about the look in his eyes, the resigned look of a wizard who knows he's lost a duel before his opponent has even raised his wand, plucked at my heartstrings. And nobody played with Severus Snape's heartstrings. There was no anger in those emerald orbs like I'd expected there to be. The boy didn't even put up a fight when I deducted house points and threatened a detention for his lethargy in arrival. I thought it looked like he was holding back some strong emotion, but he kept his face impassive as I scolded him icily.

After a moment of awkward silence, however, he spoke. "Professor," he said, "Did you know you've got a 'Kick Me' sign on your back?"


	3. Stranger Things

A/N: I NEED REVIEWS, PEOPLE!!! it isnt THAT difficult!!! if you read the story, click the little 'submit review' button and say some nice things abut the story. LIE if u have to, just writ SOMETHING:)

**Chapter Three: Stranger Things **

The first few lessons went surprisingly well. I had been practicing my Occlumency, more than the good Professor had expected, probably, and it turns out I wasn't that helpless with wordless and wandless magic, either. There were a few rather testing moments when Snape would smirk his menacing Snape Smirks and make some comment or another about my lack of effort or improvement; he somehow always managed to forget any progress I might have made. Eventually, we even started a bit on Legilimency, and I found that it was much better to be the one invading another's mind than to have your own mind invaded.

One specific story comes to mind.

I was having a particularly good day. Ron and Hermione had kissed for the first time and couldn't stop smiling since out of pure happiness. In Ron's state of ecstasy, he gave me his best set of Wizard's Chess. I was sure he'd ask me for it back once the euphoria sunk in and passed, but I was determined to have fun while it lasted. I brought the Chess board down to Snape's rooms and, before we started our lesson, I challenged him to a game.

"Potter, this isn't playtime. We have work to do, and as soon as we finish we can both get back to our own lives. And, despite popular opinion, I do have a life."

"Professor we've been learning non-stop for four months! Can't we just have one game?"

"I don't play chess, Potter, especially not with students, and most especially not with you."

"Thanks. I'm honored."

"Look, Potter, the Headmaster gave us a quota to fill. We only have to have these lessons for a few more months. Can't you survive that time without playing a bloody game of chess with your most hated Professor?"

"You know, sir, that calling yourself that is what gives you that title?"

"No chess. Now pick up your wand."

"One game. I challenge you." I smirked evilly. I knew how competitive the Potions Master was, and I knew that he wouldn't back down that easy.

"One game." He had given in.

"You're going down." I grinned.

"You wish, Potter."

After a most interesting game during which my pawns attacked Snape's with a vengeance and Snape's knight mutilated my Queen so badly her leg flew into the fire, I yelled a triumphant "CHECKMATE!" and laughed at Snape's defeated face.

"I let you win," he said simply, and picked up his wand.

"Oh, you little-"

"Stupefy!" Snape shouted without warning, but I was already used to his dueling habits and before the word was even out of his mouth I had raised my wand to block his spells. We dueled for a bit, and then, exhausted, we called a quits. We sat on his couch and stared into the hearth, each thinking our own thoughts.

"Alright, Potter. Legilimency."

"Are you serious? Professor I haven't had any practice!"

"This is your practice. You need to fight fire with fire. If the Dark Lord plans to read your thoughts, you don't only need to block him; you need to give him a taste of his own medicine and read him like an open book."

"He's more like a horror novel," I mumbled to myself.

"What's that?"

"Nothing, sir. I'm ready, I guess."

Snape walked over to his desk and slowly brought his wand tip to his temple, extracting silvery strands of memories that he didn't want me to see and placing them into his pensieve with deliberate jabs of his wand, forcing them to the bottom.

"Ok, Potter, now on the count of three, say 'Legilimens!' clearly and loudly, thinking about what you want to do. You're going to feel your way into my mind and push past my barriers. Probe with your mind and try to find a weak spot, then push your way in. This first time I won't try to stop you, but don't think I'm always going to be so easy to read."

"Yes, sir," I said, gripping my wand tightly in my right hand. I was a bit nervous about probing this man's mind… I was scared that I would accidentally happen upon something he didn't want me to see, and any progress we had been making on our quest to civil behavior towards one another would be null and void. I was afraid he might hate me again.

"On the count of three, Potter." I hated him calling me that when I had to address him as 'sir' or 'professor' at all times, but he had simply refused to call me by my first name

"We aren't old chums yet, Potter; don't go getting your hopes up about anything. I'm doing this on Dumbledore's orders, and I'll be much the better when this is all over." But he had said 'yet', so that gave me some hope.

"One," Snape's voice brought me back to the matter at hand, "two, THREE!"

"LEGILIMENS!" I cried, focusing my eyes on Snape's beady black ones and made my way into his mind. Immediately, I felt a force trying to block me out, but I pushed passed it. Snape was skilled at occlumency, though, and was almost effortlessly blocking me out. I gathered all my mental strength and fought against his barriers. I felt around in his mind, trying to find the softest, most vulnerable part. Suddenly, I felt a kind of breeze in his head and spotted a crack in the mental walls he had put up against me. I slipped through, right into his memories. I felt him stiffen; I was in, and he was having trouble getting me out.

(A/N: for those of you who're lost, _this _is the memory...)

"_Headmaster, please! I'll do anything!" a younger version of Snape was sitting across from a younger Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore himself was sitting thoughtfully, stroking Fawkes with one hand and his beard with the other._

"_Why is it that you wish to return to the light, Severus? How can I be sure that you won't turn traitor on us like you are doing to Voldemort this very instant?"_

"_Please, Headmaster, I assure you that-"_

"_Your assurance means little to me, Severus, until I hear or see undeniable proof that your are as sincere and honest in this as you claim you are."_

_Snape looked down at his shoes, and started, quietly at first with his voice raising each second, to explain himself to the Headmaster. "I hate him. I hate all of them. I stand there with them, feeling dirty and evil. I deserve to die, and some days I wish I would slipup and make him angry enough to kill me. His Cruciatus curses are said with such ease, it's amazing that they work. All the innocent people whose lives are ruined now, whose lives are over now, they didn't deserve that! And I should sit there and be his lap dog, doing his bidding like the other fools, as if it is the highest honor one could receive? I am pretty far into his circle. He trusts me, I know that. He-he knows about the Prophecy."_

_Dumbledore gasped audibly. "How does he know? How do you know?"_

"_He sent me to the Hog's Head that day, knowing you were going to be holding interviews that day. He sent me to eavesdrop, and I heard everything. I went back and told him what I had heard, and he vowed to-to-to-"_

"_To _what_ Severus? What did he say he would do?" Dumbledore's anger was a controlled whisper. He had stopped stroking his beard and his bird and had sat up in his seat, his hands on the desk in front of him, leaning forward to hear what Snape had to say._

"_He vowed to kill the Potter baby. Lily's son. He's going to murder Lily's son."_

I felt a strong, very strong force push me out of the memory, out of Snape's mind, and I stood, staring at him. He looked drained, emotionally and physically. He stood, panting, his shoulders sagging with an invisible weight, his eyes shut in some hidden emotion.

"Professor?" I whispered, as if he was ill, "Are you alright?"

"You knew already, didn't you? You knew I sold your parents to the Dark Lord. How did you know?" Snape sat down again, his head in his hands. "I forgot about that memory. I didn't realize how skilled you are in everything I teach you. I underestimated you."

"Thank you, sir. I found out last year. Professor Trelawney accidentally let it slip. I think she was a bit tipsy at the time, though, so don't hold it against her. I knew, and I long ago forgave you because if it wasn't you, it would've been someone else. But if it was anyone else, Dumbledore wouldn't have known, and I would probably be dead."

"That's one way to look at it, I suppose."

"How did you do it?" I asked, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

"Do what?" he looked at me. He was exhausted. He had let down his guard entirely, and his face was no longer impassive. It held sympathy, sadness and regret. There was a hint of something else in his eyes, but at the time I couldn't put my finger on what it was.

"How did you get Dumbledore to trust you? It's obvious that he does; besides the fact that you're the spy for the Light and all that, he's said some things to me this year… well, he really, really trusts you. Why?"

Snape looked affronted. "Do you think he shouldn't trust me?"

"I just want to know why he does. Maybe it will give me a reason to as well."

The Professor sighed. "I can't tell you exactly, Potter, I just know that I've risked my life enough times to prove my loyalty to him. I hoped it was enough for everyone else as well, but then again, I never really care what other people think. The Headmaster knew what I was sacrificing when I suggested I be a spy for the light. He knows what I sacrifice every day just being here. He knows that, if I wasn't trust-worthy, I would have handed you over to Voldemort first chance I got, which, though we don't exactly get along, I don't hate you enough to do."

I sat for a few minutes, thinking over everything in the memory and everything Snape was confiding in me now. That sounds strange, Snape confiding in me. It was a strange experience, his openness. I prayed it wouldn't be the last time, and I prayed he wouldn't put his guard back up the next time I blinked. I looked up and saw his weary face and knew that he hadn't, so I probed on.

"In the memory… you said something about my mother. 'Lily's son', you said. You made it sound like you cared."

The Potions Master rose from his seat and began pacing back and forth before the fireplace.

"When I first heard the Prophecy, I had no idea whom it might be referring to. It could have been any of the order members; I had no clue who was expecting and who wasn't, let alone what month their baby was due to be born! I was doing what I had been told to do, and though at that point already I loathed it, I was afraid for my life. It was cowardly, I admit, and there is so much I regret about my time as a Death Eater, but I choose not to dwell on it because I still have a mission to complete.

"When the Dark Lord had made his calculations and chose you, I knew just how bad things had gotten. I may have hated James Potter, but Lily was always good to me. Always. I may have called her Mudblood at first, but by the time we graduated, we were good friends. She saw the things in me that no one else did. She always saw the good in people. She knew how obsessed I was with the Dark Arts, and tried to protect me from the fate we both could not deny. Lily was the only one I ever opened up to. If not for her, I don't think I would have even thought about returning to the light. Her life and her death with influential parts of my existence.

"When I heard that she had been killed for protecting you, this inexplicable hatred for you rose up in me, and by the time you came to school, I already had a grudge to hold, but for two reasons. You were James's son, and you were Lily's son. Those were the two biggest excuses I had for my mistreatment of you. I don't deny that you irk me, more than you probably mean to, and I don't doubt that because of how I've acted to you, you hold a little animosity towards me."

I sat in stunned silence, trying and failing to believe his words.

"Good friends? You and my Mum were good friends? You think I WANTED her to die?! Do you think I could have told her to go against her maternal instincts and let me, her year old son, die? DO YOU THIK I WANTED THIS TO BE MY LIFE!?!?! YOU ACT LIKE I LIKE THE ATTENTION, LIKE I THRIVE ON IT! How could I thrive on it if it's all so negative in origin?"

Snape shook his head, something flaring in his eyes, "THIS is why we cannot get along. There is too much history here that you don't understand."

"How can I understand it if I don't know anything about it?" I asked, outraged. I hadn't been ready to see this softer side of Snape. I wasn't prepared to hold a confessional in the middle of his living room. I didn't want Snape to care, or to have ever cared. I wish there wasn't any history at all.

"If you let me tell you, you'll know." Snape crouched down in front of me and looked into my eyes. "There are some things about yourself that you can't change- your eye color, you hair color, the shape of your lips. But one thing you can change is your feelings towards another person. I am asking you now not to forgive every mean thing I've ever said to you. I'm asking you to just listen. I don't plan on telling your bratty arse my entire life story, but I will tell you what I feel you should know. Just promise not to tell Dumbledore that we're wasting our lessons on this."

"Professor, I'm not sure this is such a good idea."

"How about we discuss this over some tea?" He rose again and glided into his kitchen where he fixed the fastest cup of tea I had ever seen. He handed me my cup and sat, sighing loudly.

"Sir, I don't understand. One moment you're my 'most hated Professor', and the next you want to sit and chat over tea about why Voldemort killed my parents? Why do you care all of a sudden? All I did was invade your mind." Yes, all I did. It happens everyday, like the sun rising.

"There is so much that you cannot even begin to comprehend, Potter. Do try to, though, because I'd really like it if we could tell Dumbledore we're getting along so he can stop giving me these looks as if he knows how stubborn I am to hate you."

"So you do hate me".

"With all my heart and soul." Even without the sarcasm in his voice, I knew this was a lie, and smiled to myself with that knowledge.

Snape glanced at the clock and nearly jumped out of his skin. "Did you know it's 2 am, Potter?"

"Oh, shit!" his eyebrow rose at this exclamation, "Sorry sir, it's just that in have to be up in five hours and I still have a certain nasty Professor's essay to write on the Reducto curse and it's uses against Dark creatures."

"Hmm… well you can tell that nasty Professor that I say that no amount of curses can fix that greasy hair of his and why doesn't he take his hooked nose out of other people's business?" We laughed, an awkward thing for the two of us to do together, and it felt oddly normal, as if we'd been doing it for years.

"Oh, it'll be my pleasure," I said, "But I should get going. My friends will start to wonder if I'm still alive down here."

"I'm sure."

I got up and made my way to the door, smiling at the strange turn of events of the night.

"Good night, Professor," I said, opening the door.

"Good night, Harry."

It wasn't until I was halfway to Gryffindor Tower that my exhausted brain registered Snape's use of my first name.

Things were getting stranger by the minute.

A/N: I KNOWW snapes OOC im sorry i SUCK at writing lol and i know things are happening too fast so if u have any tips or w/e plz feel free to share!!! im going to try to slow down a bit and im going to start writing in Snape's POV and also completely in third person. the Horcruxes, the situation with Voldemort and everything else from book six is coming, im just forming my ideas really slowly so BE PATIENT!!!

The more reviews the fster the updates so REVIEW PLEASE!!!


	4. Feeling This

Disclaimer: i dont own anything or anyone... unfortunately for me

A/n: this will be in Snape's point of view. Sorry it's so short. the lack of reviews is giving me writer's block. ahem hint hint.

That Potter boy was beginning to confuse me. As our (meaningless) lessons progressed, (damn Dumbledore for doing this to me!), I started to find myself thinking differently of him. I started second guessing my hatred towards him, noticing all his good qualities, and the stark similarities between us. Both of us had had horrible excuses for a childhood, and both of us had an insatiable thirst for knowledge. Once I had my stubbornness in control, I realized how intelligent Potter really could be if he put his mind to it. His determination and his willpower made him deserving of the heroic title placed on him by the media and by Dumbledore himself. I often argued with the Headmaster about whether he might be putting too much pressure on the young man to save the Wizarding world.

"The boy is only sixteen, Albus. The biggest concern of most his age is whether or not their crush likes them, and will they pass their NEWTS next year with flying colors, or be forced to work as the Garbage Collector at Saint Mungoes."

"Moving past who takes out the trash, I feel that Harry is more than capable of the task fate has so unkindly set before him. Whether out of a need to avenge the deaths of his parents or out of a sheer hatred and revulsion of evil, I don't know, but he is definitely in the right state of mind for this, regardless of his age."

"Headmaster, I disagree."

"Is this concern your showing for the boy, Severus? Because I thought that was a positive feeling, the likes of which you have sworn off when it comes to Harry." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled madly, a sign of self-assuredness that made me very uncomfortable.

"Concern? Hardly! It's just that I feel you are overworking me. If he is as ready for this as you say he is then why does he need my assistance? It's bad enough having classes with the brat, but to place us in such close quarters more often than necessary…"

"I never said he was ready for this, Severus. You know as well as I how unprepared he is, despite the mounting anger bubbling inside of him. Anger and emotion is not nearly enough in this case, I'm afraid. He needs to be trained and there is no one better for the job than you."

"But-but-"

"No buts, Severus. The two of you will have to deal with each other for now."

I let out a sigh of resigned anger and blinked my eyes for dramatic effect. "If I must, I must."

"It's for your own good, you know." Sure. Keeping eating your sweets, old man.

Harry was a puzzle to be solved, an intricate maze of emotions twisting and turning without end. One second I'd have him all figured out, the next he'd prove me all wrong, saying a kind word in response to my animosity or showing tremendous skill in an area I thought he had no hope in. The boy was full of surprises.

After only four months of training, Potter had grasped the most difficult of concepts. One night, he came down to my rooms on a mission. Make a fool of the Potions Master. Here I am only joking, for I don't truly believe that was his intention, but I don't buy that rubbish about "wanting a break". He wanted to play chess! Who plays chess with the person they despise the most on earth unless they want to beat them for some sly cunning purpose?

He completed his mission after an intense battle with a triumphant "CHECKMATE!" after which I proceeded to engage him in the most destructive duel of his life. My living room has never been the same.

I decided to challenge him with Legilimency for the first time, and he proved quite adept at that, too. At first I let him in, just to give him a taste of what it feels like to be inside someone else's mind. Then I felt him push past my barriers and into unguarded territory so to speak. I tried to block him, to kick him out, but he was better than I thought.

He saw the memory of my return to the light, my visit to Dumbledore.

When I was finally able to push him out, I expected him to be seething; all hopes for a better relationship were squashed. But he wasn't. He already knew, he said, about how I sold his parents to the Dark Lord. Well, that was a relief. But there was much I needed to discuss with him.

Over the course of the next few lessons, we talked, just talked. We discussed my experiences as a Death Eater, at least as much as I was willing to expose. He told me about his childhood and his hopes for the future.

"Number one on my list is to survive past age 18," he said, grinning sadly, "and even that's a stretch."

For the first time, I discovered that Harry Potter was not a stuck up brat who sought attention and loved playing the hero; he was a teenage boy who knew his destiny and had so much compassion for his fellow humans that he was willing to put his life on the line to save theirs. This was Harry.

I started addressing him by his first name in about February, something that feels oddly comfortable on my tongue, though still new, even now in May. He's really something, that boy. Man. He's a man.

I've become a whole new person because of this man, more caring, more open. It would sicken me, normally, were it not for the fact that this man is Harry, someone who has come to be my closest companion in recent months. I only wish things weren't the way they are.

There is so much about me that Harry does not know; he knows I am a spy, but he doesn't fully comprehend the job description behind that title. He does not believe me capable of the murderous cruelties I have committed, despite the fact that he's seen many of them through reliving my own memories. His aptitude for Legilimency has proved to be more of a curse than a blessing for me.

Recently, as in the last few days, I have begun to think of Harry in a somewhat-strange-way. His voice, his body, his eyes- they occupy my every thought. I cannot sleep at night knowing how far away he is. I cannot teach because I'm always thinking of him, and when he's there in my classroom, I cannot teach because I am trying so hard not to stare at him.

I have always known about my homosexuality, but I was never really concerned about it; there have always been bigger things to worry about. I never thought I was in any danger of having feelings towards anyone, because I never let anyone get that close.

Harry was different, so different. I felt my heart beat faster every time he entered a room I occupied. I mentally (and sometimes verbally) cursed myself for feeling this way. I had let myself go, and now things were getting out of hand.

_Severus Snape doesn't open up to people like that_, I chastised myself, _why should famous Harry Potter be any different?! How could you let this happen, Severus? You idiot!_

I was falling, very fast, for someone I could never have. Harry had his eyes on that Weasley girl. I knew that. I was 20 years his senior for god's sake! It was more than inappropriate; it was downright wrong, and I would not stand for it.

I went to Dumbledore, telling him that Harry didn't need any more training. He was grrat, fine, perfect (and so damn sexy!) and I felt there was nothing more to do.

Dumbledore saw right through me, as usual.

"Do you care for him, my boy?" he asked, not sounding the least bit surprised.

"Care for him, Albus? Of course I care; he's responsible for my fate as well as his own in this and I feel I have done the best I can. I wouldn't be saying it if it weren't true for I am concerned for my own life as well."

"Come, now, Severus, don't tell me that's all it is!"

"That's all it is, _Headmaster_." I will not tell you what you want to hear.

"You care deeply for him. I see it in your eyes when you look at him. When you hear his name, something lights up in them."

"L-lights up, sir? Do no liken me to a Christmas Tree at a time like this!"

"A time like what, Severus? A time when you feel vulnerable? A time when you've caught yourself off guard at your own emotions?"

"Headmaster, I do not wish to continue this conversation."

"Ahh, but alas, you have no choice. Whether we continue this or not, the truth is undeniable, your feelings are undeniable. You will continue with the lessons, Severus. Good day." Good day to you too, you sneaky little bastard.

A/N: REVIEW !!!!! if you want more!!


	5. By the Fire

**A/n: CHAPTER FIVE!!! YAY!!! and that's without any reviews!! seriously, if theres anyone reading this who thinks they can get away without reviewing, they are sorely mistaken. i need reviews to continue this fic!!! GET ON IT!!!**

**Disclaimer: I dont own anything. Except the slowly developing plotline.**

_Chapter Five:_ By the Fire

_Pit pat pit pat_ the raindrops fell lightly from the May sky, hitting the windows and rolling down the castle in streams, making it seem as though the walls themselves were crying. The gloomy mood was very befitting of one Gryffindor who sat in the Common room that Saturday, wishing he were in Hogsmeade. Harry sighed, looking down at his Potions essay. Slughorn was undoubtedly more lenient in his assignments than Snape was, but Harry was still forever behind on his work.

While Ron and Hermione were out sloshing through the puddles on their way to the Three Broomsticks for a warm Butterbeer, Harry sat by the fire moodily scratching out the lines he had written the night before, most of which didn't make any sense at all, given the state of his mind at the time.

Snape had been acting very odd towards Harry lately, and the young Wizard couldn't put his finger on why. It had seemed like they were making such good progress in their relationship recently, and now, all of a sudden, the former Potions Master was back to his old self. His sneers and smirks were back full-force, and he had been taking more points that ever. Without explanation, he had canceled their last training session, due to, as he put it, "some personal issues". This upset Harry, for had really begun to enjoy the time he spent with the older man; besides the knowledge and skill he had acquired, he felt comfortable with Snape, like one would with an old friend. Indeed, Harry felt, they had become close companions. Until recently, he had no reason to think otherwise.

Harry hadn't realized how much he valued the lessons with Snape, until, however cliché it may sound, he didn't have them anymore. Harry sat, now, unable to concentrate. No matter how hard he tried to think of another reasonable explanation for his lack of attention, it all lead back to Severus Snape. The man was everywhere, it seemed. Besides for occupying 75 percent of Harry's thoughts, (the other 25 percent being how he was going to defeat Voldemort without his help), the man seemed to be right behind or right in front of Harry wherever he walked; the halls were his haunt night and day.

Once this fact had been established, Harry thought he could try to get the Potions Master's attention, and try to talk things out; he had tried to catch him after classes, but Snape had left hurriedly before Harry even opened his mouth. This tactic was fruitless, too, because Snape was determined to avoid him at all costs. Harry would be walking back from dinner in the Great Hall, only a few short steps behind the man, when Snape would suddenly turn around and head back in, and Harry couldn't go back for a number of reasons. A) it would make it obvious that he was following him, B) he would have to explain himself to Ron and Hermione, who were impatient to get back to the Common Room, and C) if Snape didn't want to talk to him, Harry would have to respect it, at least for a little while, just to give Snape his space.

Harry found this easier said than done. As he sat staring into the fire, alone in the common room by that time, (his grumbling stomach signaled lunch and told him why), the man consumed his thoughts yet again. His courage, his sense of sarcastic humor, his powerful command of Magic, his extensive knowledge of everything Harry needed to know. The man had become Harry's mentor, and now, he realized, he needed him.

'_I must be psychotic,'_ Harry thought. He had just seen Snape's head flash through the fire. '_I need to get a grip.'_

Suddenly, however, the Potions Master's face appeared in the flames once again, and this time Harry could confirm it was real.

"Professor?" Harry asked, sliding off his favorite fire-front arm chair and staring at Snape in confusion, "What are you doing here?"

Snape looked tired and stressed and Harry had the feeling that if a hand were to join its head, it would run itself across the exhausted face and nervously tug at its hair.

"How did you know I didn't go to Hogsmeade? And you're lucky I'm alone in here; people might think it's strange that you're visiting me." Harry kept his face cold and impassive, but inside he was smiling, his heart strangely beating a mile a minute.

"I have your map, Potter, or have you forgotten it already? I knew both that you were here and that you were alone just by looking at it. Tell me, what are _you_ doing here? Shouldn't you be running around in the rain, trying to catch cold and get out of doing your work like your other little friends?"

"Actually, Professor, quite the opposite. I stayed here to catch up on my work and stay out of the rain. I don't like rain that much, really, I'd rather be inside by the fire, even if it means writing a potions essay."

"Potions essay? I miss assigning those. At least when I was doing it, I could be certain you would get the grade you deserve, and not a point higher. Slughorn is a softy, especially for you, just like everyone else who is blinded by that scar."

"Is he now?" Harry said through gritted teeth. First the Professor ignores him and now he comes to see him just to rub his fame in his face?

"I wouldn't put it past him to give you an E in Potions this year, whether or not you deserve it."

'_If I could concentrate on what I was writing I'd even get an E with you, you snarky bastard'_ Harry thought, but he kept this to himself. Out loud, he said, "I think I do deserve it, Professor, despite what you may believe."

"Oh, really, Potter? Then prove it."

"Prove it? How?"

"I'm brewing a rather complex potion at the moment, and I could certainly do with a competent assistant."

"Are you complimenting me, sir? Are you actually admitting that I'm 'competent'?"

"Do not kid yourself, Potter. I'm not calling you competent; I'm asking you to show me that you are. Meet me in my office. I will be there shortly." And as suddenly as it had appeared, Severus Snape's head disappeared from the Gryffindor Common Room fire.

'_Well, that was strange_,' Harry thought, but he gathered his stuff and packed it up, anyway, preparing to head down to Snape's office. Halfway across the common room, a piece of paper caught his eye that hadn't been there before.

_Bring a wand_. That's all it said.

_HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS_

Harry exited Gryffindor tower and began making his way down to the dungeons. His thoughts strayed to the hooked nosed Professor that awaited him. It was very odd, Harry thought, for Snape to show up like that, just to tease him and then invite him to be his personal Potions assistant. Something strange was going on, that was for sure. Of all the things Harry expected Snape to do, popping into the Common Room fire place to check on him was last on the list.

He knocked on Snape's office door, and when there was no response, he opened the door and walked in. The teacher's desk that normally sat in the center of the room was pushed to the far right wall, and all the book cases that usually stood behind it were pushed to the far left. Harry was just analyzing this strange change in decoration when a familiar voice said, "Expelliarmus!"

Harry barely had time to register what was going on before his wand flew out of his hand. He whipped around to face his attacker and of course found Severus Snape smirking back at him.

"Not too quick today, are we, Mr. Potter? Pick up your wand. We're going to duel." Harry sighed; he had been expecting this. He supposed it was some kind of pre-potion-brewing ritual for Snape, but he was very tire and could only hope he would go easy on him this time.

Harry took his wand from Snape and stood to face him.

"Don't think I'm going to go easy, Potter. I am not in a very good mood today."

"You won't have to do anything but duel, Professor."

Snape's eyebrows arched dangerously. "Oh, cocky now, are we?" Snape berated himself inwardly at the innuendo's that were flooding his mind with the use of this word.

"No, sir. Just tired."

"Well, you had better wake up, Potter. One, two, three-" and the duel began. It lasted about an hour, during which the reason for the change in decoration of Snape's office became apparent; as he ducked and dived and dodged curse after curse, Harry found the new spacious arrangement quite to his liking. Finally, Harry managed to hit Snape with an Expelliarmus when he was paralyzed by Harry's Jelly-Jinx curse.

Harry cried a triumphant, "Aha!" and proceeded to collapse onto Snape's desk, exhausted.

"Very well done, Potter. And that is a compliment."

"Thanks, Professor. I try."

"Come, let's go to my rooms. We have much to do." Before Harry could protest, Severus had swept out of the room.

As soon as Harry entered Snape's chambers, he made a beeline for the couch and sat down heavily.

"Tired, Potter?"

"I can't move," Harry groaned.

Snape sat down beside him, handing him a bottle of Butterbeer. He looked slightly uncomfortable, though Harry had no idea why.

"There's no potion," he said, looking down into his bottle.

"Then why am I here?"

"I was just making sure your dueling skills were still intact."

"And are they?"

"I let you win, Potter Again."

Harry scowled. "What's with the last-name calling? I thought we were past that."

Snape sighed, a sign of vulnerability rarely shown to anyone but Harry. "We are, Harry. I'm sorry."

"Why did you cancel our lessons, sir?"

"I didn't think you would miss them too much, Harry. It seems I underestimated you once again."

"Sir, why did you show up in the fire today? It was… unexpected."

"If you mean awkward, then yes I know it was, and I am sorry. I just figured it would be dramatic and effective."

"I didn't know you were a dramatic man, Professor."

"I did Shakespeare in my day, Potter."

"To be or not to be, eh?" They laughed easily together, and Harry felt a wave of relief wash over him. It seemed Snape was back to normal again.

"Harry, I…" Snape trailed off, staring into the fire, "Harry, I wanted to say I'm sorry for the way I have been acting over the past few days. I had a bit of a rough start and I don't know why I took it out on you." _Yes you do, you lying pedophile,_ Severus growled to himself.

"It's alright, Professor. I admit that at first I was kind of confused, because over the months I thought we were finally starting to get along, but I realized you probably just needed your space." And another surprise from Mr. Potter.

"I think 'starting to get along' is inaccurate, Potter," Snape said, taking a swig of Butterbeer.

"Then how would you put it, sir?"

"Taken a turn for the worst, I'm afraid."

"If I wasn't afraid of you hexing me to bits, I would hit you right now," Harry said, grinning madly all the while.

"You would, would you?" Severus teased setting his bottle down on the mahogany coffee table that Harry had so often thought was never used.

"I would. What do you mean a turn for the worst?" Harry scowled again.

"Well, I think that us being civil towards each other is worse than us hating each other, simply because it drives me crazy when Dumbledore is right about everything."

"But he is right about everything," Harry laughed, but this time Snape did not join in. He became quiet all of a sudden, somber.

"What's wrong, sir?" Harry asked, genuinely concerned.

"He thinks he's right about everything. Sometimes even the greatest of men can make the worst of mistakes. Remember that, Potter."

"Professor?" Harry was confused

"Never mind that now, Harry." Snape rose from the couch and went over to one of his many bookshelves, taking from the uppermost shelf a dusty chessboard.

"I believe a rematch is in order," he said, and proceeded to lose to Harry even more horribly than before.

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A/N: REVIEW EVERYONE!!! chapter six to be up as soon as possible : ) 


	6. Night Visions

Disclaimer: nothing is mine except the plot!

A/n: I NEED REVIEWS!!! REVIEW!!!

_Chapter Six_: Night Visions

As the month of May drew to a close, Harry found himself milling around Hogwarts, a smile plastered on his face. His happiness seemed boundless now that Snape was acting normal towards him again. Their relationship had definitely progressed this year, and neither one could doubt the positive affects the change was having on them.

Besides from Snape, Harry's happiness could also have been from the news that the Headmaster had told him during their last meeting. After getting a hold of Slughorn's real memory and discovering Voldemort's use of Horcruxes, Dumbledore had revealed to Harry just how close they were to the Dark Lord's defeat.

"Voldemort created seven Horcruxes, seven being a rather significant number in our world. I believe each Horcrux has some connection to Hogwarts, because it was his real home, and meant a lot to him as a young man. I believe that they are possessions of the four founders, like Hufflepuff's Cup, Salazar Slytherin's ring and locket, etc etc etc. Besides those three, one of which has already been destroyed," at this point, Dumbledore held up his blackened finger, signifying the reason it had that appearance, "there is also his diary, which you saw fit to destroy in your second year, unknowingly taking a part of Voldemort's soul with it. I believe that the fifth Horcrux is something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's, because, like I said, this School still holds a place in his cold, black heart. It is also possible that the sixth Horcrux is his pet snake, Nagini, whom he seems quite attached to, and of course the final one resides inside him, the only piece of him that is still remotely human."

Just knowing that they had the formula to destroy Voldemort brought a smile to Harry's face, but having found out just how close they were was truly the icing on the cake. The only drawback was that Dumbledore had made him promise to tell no one, not a soul, including Ron and Hermione. This also meant, of course, he wasn't to breathe a word of this to Severus. This was the hardest part of the secret-keeping.

One night, Harry had returned from a lesson with him and was so happy and care-free that he neglected to clear his mind before plopping down on his bed, fully clothed, and falling straight to sleep.

_He was in a dark, crowded room, sitting on a high chair. He was speaking in Parseltongue to a slithering mass curled at his feet. "What have you found tonight?" he hissed, and even though he was speaking a different language, he could tell the voice was not his own. _

_He was stuck in Voldemort's head again, probably now at a Death Eater meeting._

_Suddenly, he felt himself stand up. "Quiet!" he screamed to the dark-robed figures._

_One by one, the Death Eaters approached and kissed the hem of his- Voldemort's - robes. _

"_Master," they muttered, "My lord, it's a pleasure, as always," some said. _

"_I have called you here tonight to discuss something of great importance that is soon to take place. Due to the _absence_ of our dear Lucius, I have seen to that his son Draco fill his shoes while he is gone. I have assigned the young man a mission, one many of you, I'm sure, would simply die for. Some of you may even have that chance." Here, the Dark Lord's cold voice paused, the slits of his red eyes boring into the wide fearful ones of his servants. _

"_His mission, whether or not he chooses to accept it, is to take Albus Dumbledore off our hands. And I do not mean temporarily." There was an intake of breath that swept like a wind through the circle of Death Eaters, though out of fear or excitement, Harry couldn't tell._

"_My lord, is there any way we can be of assistance to the boy?" the raspy voice of one masked man sounded out into the shocked silence._

_Voldemort turned towards the one who had spoken. "How can you be of assistance? Do use your common sense for once, Rookwood! Of course you will help him. You must accompany the boy to hold off the Aurors and all the rest of Dumbledore's crew. You will need to be there should he fail to follow orders. He is only sixteen, after all. Remember that." The Death Eater named Rookwood bowed his head. "Oh, and Rookwood," the Dark Lord continued, "CRUCIO!"_

_The masked Rookwood shrieked in agony, writhing on the ground, but Voldemort lifted the curse as fast as he had administered it. _

"_Any one else care to question my orders?" the question was obviously rhetoric, and everyone remained silent. "Good. Now, Severus, I believe you have something to share with us all?" he turned to the man in question, who lowered his mask and moved to stand in the center of the circle._

"_Draco has told me, time and time again, that he has a plan," Severus began, "but he declined to tell me what that plan is. I have offered him help, of course, because I know what his mission is and would only be too glad to help him complete it-" he paused to acknowledge the sniggers of his fellow Death Eaters and continued- "But I do not think he knows that I know of his assignment, and therefore he assumes that I want him to tell me of it so I can do it myself and take the credit. Naturally, I have no desire to do so, because my Master did not tell me to do that._

"_The problem is that without knowing it, Draco is making it harder for himself. By not telling me of his plans, he is, in fact, ruining them. Therefore, I am going to try to push him a bit more, but I expect that as it is nearing the end of his school year, he will attempt to set his plan in motion very soon. So, keep your eyes and ears opened._

"_Lastly, and most important, Dumbledore himself has told me that he will be out of Hogwarts in three weeks time, for a day, perhaps two, on a mission of his own, the likes of which he did not care to fill me in on. However, when he returns, I believe Draco will spring into action. Keep that night free on your calendars." More sniggers. "That's all the information I have for now." Severus moved back to his place in the circle and the Dark Lord rose again from his seat. _

"_Severus, is it truly that difficult to get information out of a stupid teenager? Surely a man like you would have ways of finding out what you need to know?" He said 'a man like you' and 'ways' in such a way that made the sleeping Harry's stomach squirm._

"_My lord, I-I-"_

"_Don't even bother, Severus. RICTOSEMPRA!" The curse was out of his mouth before Severus even registered that he had drawn is wand. But it didn't stop there. "CRUCIO!" Voldemort said again, only this time he held it for what seemed like forever. Pain coursed through Harry's body; it felt like every single inch of him was on fire. But Severus wouldn't scream. He bit his lip and curled his fists, but he kept quiet. _

_Harry himself woke up screaming. _

The minute his eyes opened, Harry was out of bed. He grabbed his invisibility cloak and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, (he usually slept only in his boxers), and a plain white t-shirt, and hurried downstairs as fast as his tip-toes would carry him. He needed to see Severus, immediately.

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	7. Forever Yours

A/n: Sorry my chapters have been so short!! i'm really trying, but with the lack of reviews, my confidence is in a serious need of a boost in order to keep this story going!!REVIEW PEOPLE!! PLEASE:)

_Chapter 7_- **Forever Yours**

PREVIOUSLY in _An Ever Fixed Mark...)_

"The minute his eyes opened, Harry was out of bed. He grabbed his invisibility cloak and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, (he usually slept only in his boxers), and a plain white t-shirt, and hurried downstairs as fast as his tip-toes would carry him. He needed to see Severus, immediately."

But Harry never saw Severus that night. In fact, for the next three weeks, it seemed, Severus had disappeared. His password, which he had given to Harry around Easter, no longer worked; he hadn't shown up to a single meal since the night Harry had had the vision; his last few classes were canceled to give his students "more time to study for their end-of-yea exams".

Harry took to pacing his dormitory whenever he wasn't studying with Ron or Hermione. He had known Draco was up to something for a while now. And if Snape's talk with him during Slughorn's Christmas party was any indication, he had also known that Severus was trying to get out of him exactly what it was. What was frustrating was how good of an actor Snape was. For the first time, Harry found himself doubting the man. Whose side was he really on? How truthful was he with Dumbledore? And what was going on with Malfoy?!

But before Harry could confront Snape with these questions, before, in fact, he saw Snape at all, Dumbledore called him up to his office.

And by the time the pair arrived back at the castle, it was to find the Dark Mark hovering formidably over head.

Albus Dumbledore died that night, and with him, so did Harry's trust for Severus Snape.

HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS

(Harry's POV)

Three weeks. It's been three weeks since that night, and still the nightmares are as fresh as if it had been yesterday. The man is always haunting my dreams; if it's not the hate-filled gleam in his eyes as he raised his wand and pointed it at Dumbledore's chest, it's his smile when I made him laugh during a lesson, or my name on his tongue. "Harry, Harry, Harry".

Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat, and it takes me a few minutes before I realize where I am. Occasionally, I'll wake up, my dreams still playing behind my closed eyelids, willing myself not to awaken just yet; sometimes I just wish I could sleep, forever.

It's not that I am lazy; on the contrary, I'm anxious to set out on the mission that Dumbledore and I started that night. It's just that I know that the time will come when I have to face him again, and I don't know what I will do. Now that he is my enemy once more, I find myself missing the Snape I got to know, the man behind the mask, so to speak. I doubt either of us was ever so open with another human being than we were with each other this year. Then again, perhaps it was all an act on his end, a ploy to gain my trust, to take away any suspicions I may have had.

Soon I will be leaving the Dursleys, once and for all. I would have gone straight to the Burrow, or Headquarters, but it was Dumbledore's wish that I return here until I come of age, which, technically speaking is in one hour and four minutes. Once again, I'm having a rather quiet birthday party, with the guest list being a pathetic one, naming just me, myself, and I, and, as cliché as it might sound, the truth is that everything is so indecisive right now, I might as well be three different people, anyway.

I am just getting ready to call it a night, when a familiar sound starts at the window. I look up to see Hedwig, a letter tied to her beak, pecking at the glass as if requesting permission to enter. I immediately jump out of bed, suddenly alert.

"Hey, girl," I whisper, opening the window, "what's that you got there?" I untie the letter, and my heart jumps into my throat. I recognize that handwriting, but, no! It can't be! Can it? Forgetting about my rather impatient owl for a minute, I sit myself down, breathing hard, and begin to read the letter.

_Harry-_

_ I know. What. The. Hell. Right? I would try to apologize, to explain myself, to make you understand, but I know that you are probably still too consumed by your anger and hatred of me to begin to listen to reason. Besides, at this point, I cannot even tell you the truth without getting us both killed. You do not even know how hard these past few weeks have been for me. Away from you. _

_ Even with everything that has happened, I cannot forget all that I have left behind. The confusion, the madness, the hurt, the mistrust. I need you to understand, Harry, I need you to believe, that I would never kill him of my own accord. He was like a father to me, Harry. My mentor, my teacher, my friend. How could I? But you cannot believe that until you see the evidence, until the cold hard truth stares in you in the eye and dares you to call it a lie._

_ Harry, I meant to tell you, before I left, exactly what you mean to me. Given the circumstances, it would be quite selfish of me to heap this on your already full plate, but I think that even I, the Bat of the Dungeons, deserve to be selfish just this once. It may not have occurred to you, when I tried to cancel our lessons, that I was undergoing some emotional stresses at the time that made me an inadequate teacher. You may not have realized how much pain it caused me, spending all that time with you, knowing that you were beginning to trust me, yet knowing what I would have to do. Knowing how much I was going to hurt you. It killed me, watching our relationship progress, when it was only a matter of time before you would want my blood. _

_ The truth is, Harry, our relationship did more than just progress. It is hard for me to write this, to admit this, but… I am a changed man because of you. I care now. I… I care… about you. And as hard as it may be to believe, I think I am in love with you. _

_ It's ironic, isn't it, that I tried to end my lessons with you, because a teacher-student relationship is forbidden, at with out age difference, just the thought of it was wrong, and then I go and murder the only man who ever felt anything other that hatred towards me, and I am no longer a teacher, free, as it were, to love whoever I want. At the same time though, you now want to kill me. Ah, the irony. Ha. Ha. Ha._

_ There isn't enough time now, to write what I want to write to you, but I had to get that out. For the next few weeks, my job is to notify Minerva McGonagall that I am still alive, and reveal to her the truth about Albus's death. You will know the truth, soon, too; be patient, Harry, I know it's hard, and I have probably just made it harder, but hang on. As soon as I can, I will tell you the truth, too._

_Oh, and Happy Birthday. I would have sent you a card, but i figured this would be enough of a shock. Besides, I think I'd rather leave that job to your most adoring fans. ;)_ _  
_

_ Forever Yours,_

_ Severus Snape_

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHT COMING SOON!!!! what will Harry do now?? 

REVIEW!!


	8. Truth Be Told

A/n: MY LONGEST CHAPTER YET!! woooot woooot!! hehe

Disclaimer: Nothing;s mine so dont sue!!

**Chapter Eight: ****Truth Be Told **

Harry must have reread that letter at least fifty times, memorizing Snape's words, letting them penetrate his very soul. He knew it wasn't a joke simply because it all became so obvious at that moment; his behavior was now somewhat justifiable. But the hatred still lingered, and probably would until he had the proof Severus spoke of.

Did he mean that he had no choice but to kill Dumbledore? What was he implying? Should he, Harry, contact McGonagall right away and plead with her to tell him what was going on? He knew Dumbledore would have wanted him to sit tight and be a good boy until Bill and Fleur's wedding, which had been the plan, but how could he with this letter now in his hands?

He grabbed a clean sheet of parchment, dipped his quill in his last jar of ink, and then realized he did not know how to respond to Snape's heartfelt message. He knew now, without a doubt, that he felt something towards his ex-Professor as well. Some hatred, maybe, but also respect, possibly even love? It was crazy to think, and even crazier to pen, but Harry Potter was in love with his most hated Potions Master. He wasn't ready to admit it yet, though, not even to himself, because he was still afraid that maybe he was being punk'd; that the camera men were about to come out from behind his closet door and laugh at him.

Despite his misgivings, however, Harry found himself writing.

_I didn't know how to begin this letter. "Dear Sir"? "Snape-"? Every introduction seemed wrong, so I decided to skip the formalities and get straight to the point. I need to see you. I cannot talk about this, about us, now. There are more important things happening here than you and me, I'm afraid. So much has happened, so much more needs to happen, in order for me to even begin to think about what happened between us. I know it may seem stupid, but I cannot love you because I hate you. And the problem is that I want to do both. Love you and hate you. Until I have proof of your honesty and your goodness, however, I remain indifferent._

_You did this to yourself. I'm Sorry._

_HP_

Harry knew it was a cruel thing to do, breaking someone's heart like that. But how could he be sure that Severus was being honest, anyway? And even if he was, how could he just drop a bombshell like that and expect everything to be ok?

After sending Hedwig back off into the night, Harry paced his room impatiently, once again hoping for a miraculous rescue from the Dursleys. He had only three days until the wedding, but after tonight he felt as if he couldn't even wait one minute longer.

He furiously began mumbling to himself as he threw his belongings into his school trunk. He had so much on his mind right now; was he going to go back to Hogwarts? How was he going to find the remaining Horcruxes? To kill or be killed, that was the question.

At around three o'clock, Harry finally collapsed on his bed, falling into a fitful sleep. He tossed and turned for most of the night, and when he finally awoke at eight to Uncle Vernon's purple face yelling at him to get his lazy arse out of bed, he felt as if he hadn't slept at all.

He pulled on his only good fitting pair of jeans and a white t-shirt that he knew was a bit tight and headed down to the kitchen.After making breakfast and hastily gobbling it down, Harry set off down Privet Drive with the parting words of "I'm going for a walk. Don't wait up." He didn't even wait to hear Aunt Petunia's response.

His legs carried him almost automatically to his favorite haunt, the park on Magnolia Crescent.

He sat on the last remaining swing and stared aimlessly at the street, at the mother's and their baby carriages, the happy young men and woman who walked together hand in hand, enjoying the warm summer breeze wafting through the air.

There was a point when Harry would stare longingly at these people, wishing he could have their carefree happiness, wishing he could enjoy at least one summer of his life without worrying about the fate of loved ones, without looking over his shoulder and expecting death to be ready and waiting to pounce.

At this morbid thought, of course, Harry glanced over his shoulder. What he saw made his fall of his swing.

* * *

"What are _you_ doing here?!" Harry whipped his wand out of his pocket, not caring about the Muggles that were all around him, not caring that it was broad daylight, focused only on the man standing under the shade of a large oak tree ten feet away from him.

"Are you mad?" the man stage-whispered, "Put it away! I assure you I will not attack you, Harry."

"How dare you call me Harry, like you know me! How dare you come here, telling me what to do! I will not put my wand away and if you don't start explaining soon, I am going to curse you into next Tuesday." Harry took a step towards the man, his heard thumping painfully in his chest.

"Harry," the man sighed, coming out of the shadows, "Harry, please, calm down. I only-"

"Save your breath, Snape. I don't give a damn." Without thinking, Harry ran towards him, and began punching every piece of him that he could reach.

"YOU KILLED HIM!" he cried, not even noticing the tears coursing down both of their cheeks, "YOU FUCKING MURDERER!! I trusted you. I trusted you and this is what you do with that trust? YOU MOTHER FUCKING BASTARD! I HATE YOU!" Harry now had him backed against the oak tree, blocking them from the view of any curious onlookers on the street. Suddenly, he stopped punching him, just stood there, holding onto his cloak, sobbing.

"I trusted you…"

The now bleeding Severus tilted Harry's chin up, forcing him to look him in the eye.

"Harry. Stop." He held his head firmly in his hands, noticing the bags under his eyes, indicating the lack of sleep that Severus knew he had caused. He swiped his thumbs across Harry's tear-stained cheeks and smoothed his hair back softly.

"Severus…" Harry tried to pry away his hands from his face, but he found he liked them there, comforting him like that.

"Harry, if you still have an ounce of trust left for me, let me explain myself. Please let me explain myself."

"How could I trust you? How can you expect me to after everything that happened? Why are you here? How do I know that you aren't lying to me? How can I be sure that there are another fifty Death Eaters here, just waiting for vulnerable little me to get weak enough? How do I know you won't try to kill me too?"

Severus's face fell, his shoulders sagging with the invisible weight of guilt. His guard was down again, and it almost broke Harry's heart. But he told himself he must stay strong, he had to get to the bottom of all of this. "Harry… Harry, I need you to trust me if even just this one last time."

"What are you going to do?" Harry whispered, fighting the overwhelming urge to kiss him, and at the same time gouge his eyes out. Sweet Merlin he needed help.

"I am going to Apparate us to my house, where I will show you the proof I spoke of in my letter. Did you- erm- did you receive this letter?" Severus's stomach churned with nervousness; he had poured his heart out in that letter, something he had only done once before, ironically to Dumbledore, the man who was now dead at his hands. '_Breathe, Severus'_, he kept reminding himself,_ 'you know you had no choice.'_

Harry nodded, "I got it last night. Well, this morning. You did not get my response?"

"I-I-you? Oh," Severus stammered. He cleared his throat. "No, I didn't get it. I've been waiting here all morning, for you."

"Oh," Harry said, and they just stood there in an awkward silence, Severus's hands on Harry's face, Harry's hands covering his, staring at each other. "If this is a trick, I swear to god I will kill you, Severus Snape."

Severus sighed with relief. "I swear on my life that this is no trick, Harry." And with a _pop, _they disapparated.

* * *

When the feeling of being compressed in a tube finally went away, Harry opened his eyes and looked at his surroundings, quickly asserted that there were no evil Dark Lords or Death Eaters around, and sighed with relief.

He was obviously in some sort of sitting room, if the cream colored walls, black leather couches and shiny glass coffee tables were any indication. The room looked cozy and comfortable, and off to the right was a kitchen with two isles lined with black bar stools, a small round table with one wicker chair, and a tall white refrigerator-freezer that stood against one wall. Against the opposite wall there was an oven and a dishwasher, which surprised Harry as those were very Muggle appliances.

"Like it?" Snape said, and Harry jumped. He had almost forgotten who he was here with.

"Yeah," Harry said, avoiding eye contact, "it's really nice. Where are we?"

"Actually, we're in the countryside on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. I like to come here occasionally because it's quiet and peaceful and close to the school. I have another house, but that's exclusively my Death Eater home, if you will, and no one knows about this place except-" he stopped talking abruptly and sat down on one of the couches.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I just- I can't even say his name without, well, bursting into tears." He laughed shortly, and ran his hands through his unruly black hair.

"Well, you did kill him, I would think it's rather hard to talk about him with the guilt and all, you know?" Harry spat sarcastically, turning his back on Snape. "So I guess it's just me who knows about this place now? Aside from you, I mean."

"Yes," Snape said, sounding sad and broken.

"Right." This was starting to get a bit awkward, Harry thought. "So…"

Snape stood up and began pacing his living room, his hands fidgety with nerves. He paused for a moment, thinking carefully about something, and then said, "Harry. I'm going to need you to administer Veritaserum, so you can be assured that what I am about to tell you is truthful."

"Ok," Harry nodded, agreeing that this was a good idea, "But I don't have any on me."

Snape chuckled, "Of course not, Harry, here." Harry followed him into the kitchen. He opened a cabinet near the fridge and took out a small vile of dark liquid.

"How do I know that this is really Veritaserum?" Harry asked doubtfully, taking the vile from Severus's shaking hand.

"Do you not remember anything I taught you, Harry?" Severus said.

"I… Oh!" Harry nodded, suddenly remembering, "_Specialis Revialo!_" he said, pointing his wand at the bottle. Suddenly, a label appeared on the outside, and an invisible hand began writing out "_V-E-R-I-T-A-S-E-R-U-M_".

"Cool," Harry said, "How much do you need to take?"

"A few drops should do it," Severus said, and Harry uncorked the vile. He tipped some of the potion into Severus's mouth, shuddering at the unintentionally erotic way his tongue licked at the droplets that escaped down his chin. '_Fuck,'_ Harry reprimanded himself, _'get a grip.'_

Severus stroked his chin, corked the potion and placed it back on its cabinet shelf. They headed back into the living room. Harry sat down and asked, "Why did you kill Albus Dumbledore? Tell me the whole story, everything, except the things I know."

Severus immediately began pacing again. "Harry," he began, "listen to me. What happened that night… it isn't what you think! I didn't- I didn't have a choice. I made an Unbreakable Vow, Harry. Do you know what that means? I made an Unbreakable Vow to Narcissa Malfoy that I would protect her son; she made me swear that I would complete Draco's mission if he was unable to carry it out. You see, Harry, the Dark Lord was trying to get even with Lucius for screwing up his last attempt to get a hold of the Prophecy. In retaliation for thwarting his attempts and landing himself in jail, you-know-who set Draco a task he was positive he could not complete, knowing that he would kill him in punishment, both for his failure and his father's.

"Draco's mission was to kill Albus Dumbledore. Knowing the situation I was in , the compromise to my position as a spy, I made the vow. At the time, with Bellatrix Lestrange watching my every move, just waiting to prove me a traitor, I did not even think of saying no. I made the vow, praying to any gods listening that I would not have to fulfill it.

"I went to Dumbledore almost immediately, last summer, and found him injured. He had been hit with some nasty curses when his tried to get that ring…"

Here Harry interrupted him. "How do you know about that ring?" he asked.

"You forget what my real relationship with Albus was like, Harry. He trusted me with everything, including his life." Severus held up a hand to stop Harry from interrupting again and continued.

"I told Albus about the vow, and naturally he was upset. We both wondered why the Dark Lord didn't tell me of his plan before Narcissa found out, but it is of no importance now. Albus said that I was to carry out the terms of the vow, and get as much information out of Draco as possible. Obviously he would attempt to have backup when he tried to carry it out… But anyway, we both know what happened so it is useless to spend time on it.

"After a while, I got tired of chasing Draco around trying to get him to tell me what I already knew he was planning to do. I approached the Headmaster and pleaded with him to find another way. I told him I had no desire to kill him, and if I did I might as well kill myself because I would not be able to live with the guilt. He-he told me I had to. 'What if I don't want to do it anymore?' I said. 'What if I'm tired of being a double-agent?' 'I know you are,' he said, 'We're all tired of this. But I trust you, Severus,' he said, 'I know that you will not let me down…'" Severus's voice cracked, and he began to cry.

"I didn't want to do it, Harry, believe me, but it was the only way! Albus knew his time was running short besides, and if it had to be done, he wanted me to do it."

Harry suddenly flashed back to that night, when Snape had come up to the Astronomy Tower. Dumbledore had whispered his name pleadingly, begging. _Severus…_

Only now did Harry realize that he had not been pleading for his life, but for his death. _Kill me, Severus, before it's too late…_

Severus's sobbing form collapsed on the floor, moaning in emotional pain and sadness. Harry slid off the coach, patting him awkwardly on the back, trying to get him to continue.

"Whose side are you truly on, Severus?" Harry asked softly. His heart stopped beating, waiting for the answer.

"Yours."

* * *

Long after the Veritaserum had worn off, they sat in Severus's kitchen on the bar stools, drinking cup after steaming cup of tea, trying to ignore the fact that they both blushed every time there hands or knees touched. They talked about Severus's guilt over the murder he was forced to commit, about how the world would now see him as a killer, a traitor, an evil man.

Severus asked Harry to present the memory of his confession to whoever was willing to see it at the upcoming wedding. He said that Minerva McGonagall was the only other living soul who knew the truth, because Albus had explained the situation to her before his death.

Harry promised to do this, and they sat in companionable silence, lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, there was a tap on the window, causing them both to jump in fright. If anyone saw them here like this… But it was just Hedwig, delivering the letter that Harry had sent what seemed like forever ago.

Severus arched his eyebrow in surprise as Harry sent Hedwig off, ripping the letter into little pieces and tossing them out the open window into the summer wind.

"What did you do that for?" he asked, "I was looking forward to reading that!"

"It's not important now," Harry explained, "I didn't know what I was saying when I wrote it. I didn't know the truth."

"Oh," Severus said, staring into his cup once again.

Harry pulled his arm to make him stand up, and they stood facing each other in Severus's kitchen.

"Severus," Harry began.

"Don't," the man cut him off, "don't say a word. I know you cannot possibly feel anything but hatred toward me, anything but loathing… I don't know what possessed me to write that letter, it was stupid and inconsiderate and I-"

"Oh, shut up," Harry said, and planted his lips firmly on Severus's.

The kiss deepened, filling passion into the gaps of their relationship, saying everything that neither of them could say, pouring their emotion into each other, breathing new life into their souls.

Harry wrapped his arms around Severus, touching every part of him he could reach, as Severus pressed their bodies together, pushing him up against the table.

"Harry…" Severus murmured into the kiss, "Harry, what are you doing to me…"

Harry pulled away, realizing somewhere in the back of his mind that they were both crying, again. "Severus, I don't know what to say. On the one hand, all I want is you, here, now, like this. But on the other hand, I'm just getting used to the idea that you are innocent, after spending a whole month locked up in my room, hating you. Damn it, Severus. I love you. I love you and I hate you. What are _you_ doing to _me_?"

Severus loving moved his hand over Harry's face, brushing away tears for the second time that day. "I know, Harry. I don't know when I first figured it out, but I've known for a while now how I feel about you. I knew that night on the Astronomy Tower, when I- when I killed him. I knew when we were sending curses at each other, when you were calling me a cowered, when I realized you had been using my old Potions book, right now when we kissed. I knew I loved you, too. I understand how confused you are right now, and I think maybe… maybe we should just give it some time?" he was suggesting it, not demanding it, and so Harry knew he could say no.

"Severus, I- " Harry swallowed, gathering his courage, "I don't want to leave. Not now, and not ever. I trust you, and because of some potion either. But I promise you this. If you ever turn your back on me again, you will be dead before you can say 'sphinx' and I am not even close to kidding."

Severus grinned mischievously. "You're so sexy when you threaten me," he said, licking Harry's earlobe.

"You are such a tease," Harry groaned. He took Severus's face in his hands and kissed him again, this time slowly, almost painfully, dipping his tongue inside for a taste, pressing his hips against Severus's, moving slowly against him, creating a delicious friction.

"I want you," Severus whispered, snaking a hand up Harry's shirt to tease his nipples.

"Then take me."

* * *

OKKKKK you better REVIEW!!!!

Sorry if you were expecting to see some action ... ill reserver the shmexy sex for another chapter... IF youre good and you review!

till next time :)


	9. This Change in Me

Sometimes, you can trick yourself into thinking that your life is just a dream and that you will wake up any second, blinking in the early morning light and wishing you could go right back to sleep. However, more often than not, your realities are too nightmarish to be even the devil's own dreams, and even if you find your arms red and sore from the pinching they've been subjected too, you still won't wake up. The thing that really gets you is when you are sleeping so peacefully, and you know what kind of life awaits you on the other side of your eyelids, that you have no desire to wake up. Usually, you recognize that feeling as soon as the sleep leaves your body, and you try desperately to keep your eyes closed and hold on to the last few moments of restful bliss before your reflexes kick in and they open.

Much to my dismay, I woke up today with that feeling. I also felt rather sore in some unmentionable places that I never imagined I could be sore in before. I groaned and turned over, and nearly fell out of the bed; the handsome bare back of someone with dark shiny hair and muscular arms was staring me in the face.

'_Oh, shit.' _ I thought, and I must have been thinking out loud because my bed mate turned and opened one eye to look at me.

"Good morning," he said, "glad to see you look like I'm the Grim Reaper."

"Severus," I moaned, "what have we done?"

"Well, would you like the slang or the medical term for 'we shagged'?" Severus rolled over to face me, propping his head up on his elbows.

I let my own head fall into my hands. I realized, of course, before I had even followed Severus to his home the night before, how I felt about him. I loved him; there was no denying that. It was just that, given the current state of things, it was hard to love someone, to sleep with that person, when the whole world you know hates them and expects the same of you.

"Severus, we-we _can't_-" but he interrupted me, softly pressing his forefinger to my lips, silencing me.

"We _can_, Harry, just not right now, I understand that. The situation is not exactly ideal. But I don't regret anything, Harry, understand that; I don't regret anything because I love you, and if last night was meant for anything, it was to prove that to you. No matter what happens over the next few months, no matter what I am forced to do, I will always love you, Harry Potter." He lifted my chin, looked into my eyes, and I saw, clear as day, the love that now resided there. The love that was meant only for me. "Harry, look at me," he said, and even if he didn't, I could not bare to look away, anyway. "Harry, when this is all over, when this war is only history, if we live through it… _when_ we live through it, I will be here waiting for you. I will wait for you every day until the day I die. I will wait forever, Harry, if that's what it takes." He placed his forehead against mine, and my breath hitched in my throat. I felt tears prickling the back of my eyes. Why did I deserve this? How had I become the recipient of this man's love? How had I become so lucky?

"Severus," I said, and I kissed him, "Severus" kiss "Snape" kiss "I love you more than anything in this world." Another kiss, "I will be yours as long as you will have me," I promised, and smiled, tasting salty liquid. I don't even know which one of us was crying. It might have been both, again.

"But Harry," Severus said, a sad look in his eyes, "there is a person that I must be that I do not wish to be, but I must keep up my mask, I have to act as a spy, still, for that was Dumbledore's wish. When you go to that wedding, where people expect you to show up angry and wanting revenge, you must give them what they want. You have to pretend to hate me, even if you think you can't, because that is what it will take to win this war."

"But, Severus, I thought you said-"

"Yes, you should tell Minerva McGonagall that you know about the Unbreakable Vow and everything, but no one else has the privilege of knowing what happened this past year. No one, Harry, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," I said, despite myself; it was probably going to take a while to get used to, this transition from Professor to enemy to lover.

Severus laughed, "I'm glad you still have some amount of respect for me, Potter."

"No, sir, no respect at all, you filthy old man," I grinned, stretching on the bed.

"Mr. Potter, I do not need lip from you," he said, scowling.

"Oh, Professor, I think you do." And I kissed him soundly on the lips.

I got up and stretched some more, pulling on yesterday's clothes, suddenly aware that the Dursleys had no idea where I was. Oh, it was going to be one hell of day.

(Snape's POV)

Nothing could have prepared me for what happened last night. Of course I had thought about it, in the fleeting moments between classes, the second of apparition between Death Eater meetings and returning to Hogwarts, when he knocked on my door every Wednesday night. But I had never imagined, even in my wildest dreams, that it might actually happen. Especially not after that night.

I never thought a man like me would be able to express any emotion after locking it inside of me all these years, but Harry is so, so different. He makes me want to lie around all day just spewing all that emotional garbage, just whispering 'I love you' and staring into his hypnotizing eyes. Gods, those eyes; if I didn't feel so lost already, I'd say I could get lost in his entrancing emerald orbs.

These past few weeks felt so much like hell I actually found myself wondering whether I was dead. Last night, I finally felt alive. I was in heaven, with Harry Potter beside me, and it felt like I was actually a person worth knowing for once. I am not sure whether it is I who is responsible for the hatred I feel directed towards me, or if it is the Magical World in general. It is probably both. But I know Harry does not hate me. And that in it of itself makes me smile like I used to when I was sixteen. Like I used to when Lily Evans studied with me and cracked jokes about the strange physical characteristics of our Professors. The apple does not fall far from the tree, I suppose.

The truth is, all this "expressing my true feelings" crap is making me feel rather strange. I know that there is much to be done, and I know that after Harry returns from the Weasley Wedding he will come back to me, and we will start searching for the Horcruxes. I know that the world is still a bitter place to live, but I cannot help ignoring that piece of information when Harry is on my mind. I have utterly and completely lost myself. I am no longer snarky and rude. I do not close myself up anymore.

It has been less than twenty four hours since Harry left, but I feel as if he has been gone for years. Of course, in reality, he has. It took me six years to realize how unlike his father he was. Before this past year, Harry Potter might as well have been James Potter in the flesh for that was all I saw when I looked at him. It took me six years to discover that the young man I loathed was undeserving of my hatred; it took six years to make me realize how special Harry Potter truly is.

See? Look what he has done to me, making me all mushy and lovey dovey. No one does that to Severus Snape. Or at least, no one could, until now. I do hope Harry has no regrets about last night. I know how I feel for him, that's for sure, and my feelings for him have only been heightened from the experience. I just hope he does not hate me. I don't think I could stand it if he hated me.

A/n: sorry its short! Kind of having a little case of writers block ovrr here!!! Please REVIEW!!!


	10. A Toast

Well, it's been a while but i'm back with another chapter!!!! i was hoping for some more reviews, but let down once again!!! so, if you're planning on reading this chapter, PLEASE REVIEW IT!!!!!!!!!

**Chapter 10- A Toast  
**

I stood there, dumfounded, shaking with emotion, as I watched the scene play out, as I listened to all those people that I knew were my friends going against everything I secretly believed as though they were my enemies. I could catch snippets of conversation about "that bloody traitor" and such, and it made my heart ache.

My body was still numb with the aftermath of the previous night, still tingling with the sensations Severus's hands had sent all over me. I still felt him holding me, whispering assurances in my ear, giving me a kind of comfortingly real false hope, as if part of me believed him but most of me did not, though all of me wanted to.

The Burrow was as it always is, and that is lively. The Weasleys, as well as their guests, were running around in a frenzy making last minute preparations for the wedding. I stood on the side, watching everyone go by, lost in thought. I tried to remember what I was doing here, how I was supposed to act, what I was supposed to say. All I could think of was Severus. His lips, his hands, his voice; like I always had been, I was distracted from doing something easy by thinking about something more complicated that had yet to be done.

I knew no one would believe me even if I did tell them my whole sad story, and I suppose it was best that I had been forbidden, but I needed to share the information with someone; I waited with anxious breaths for Minerva McGonagall to arrive.

"Harry!" Hermione ran over and wrapped me in her sisterly embrace, filling me with warmth that melted my anxiety. "What are you doing all the way over here? Molly's been dying to see you. She's convinced that the Dursleys have been feeding you mice and making you sleep in the chimney, or something like that. I think the twins have had a tad too much celebratory Firewhisky if you ask me." She giggled, and nodded towards Fred and George who were making fine use of the gnomes by casting "Petrificus Totalus" on them and standing them up for bowling pins.

"It's good to see you, too, Hermione," I said, feeling a genuine smile push its way onto my face.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Ron's inside, come on," she tugged my arm in the direction of the house.

"I can't just now, I'm waiting for Professor McGonagall; I need to ask her something." Before the words were even out of my mouth, I felt a light tap on the shoulder.

"What is it you wanted to ask me, Harry, dear?"

"Well, I, er," I trailed off, praying that Hermione would get the hint.

"Oi, Harry, good to see you mate! Come on inside!" Ron yelled from the doorway of the Burrow.

"Give me a sec, Ron," I hollered back. Hermione turned to me and nodded her head towards the house. I nodded back, letting her know it was ok for her to leave me.

"See you later, Harry, Professor," she waved and left, leaving us alone.

"You were saying, Harry?" The Professor looked at me expectantly, concern, grief, worry, and other strong emotions playing about her eyes, set into the creases of her forehead, folding the lines of her face in ways only a smile should. It made me wonder when the last time was that McGonagall had smiled; Dumbledore's death had not been easy on her, that much was obvious.

"Professor, I need to talk to you about…something." I lowered my voice, "It's about, er, Snape." Her eyebrows raised, she took me by the elbow and lead me away a bit from the yard.

"Please, Harry, continue," she motioned for us to walk, and I set out slowly, trying to figure out how to tell her everything I knew.

"Well, I know-I know everything," I started, "I mean, not _everything_, of course, but I mean, you know…" I trailed off. I had been so worried about what I was going to say that now I was at a loss for words.

"He's… well, he's innocent, really," I continued, "He told me, under the influence of a truth serum, about the plan Prof- Dumbledore-"

"You may call him Albus, Harry," she said, smiling slightly.

"Yes, well, he told me of the plan Albus devised. I don't… I don't really wish to discuss it, as we both know the details. Either way, Sev-Snape-"

Again she interrupted, "Severus, Harry."

"Yes, Severus. He's lying low right now in his-er- other house. He told me to tell you that I knew the truth, so, here I am."

My Professor smiled sadly at me, as though I were slightly tipsy or mentally insane. It wasn't a very comforting look. "Harry…Mr. Potter. It is a difficult thing to understand, the way Albus ran his life. In the wake of his death, it is perhaps even harder to comprehend. But he still lives on, you see, in you and I and everyone he ever met. Albus was a man of extraordinary first impressions. But the impression he has made on you in particular was one that built over time." She sighed, as if she realized how ridiculous her words sounded to someone who could not read her mind or her heart.

"Harry, Severus Snape is a puzzle. He is a mystery and an enigma, but you are a brilliant detective. You have made Severus open up to you in ways he never did even with Albus. You have discovered the truth when no one else has even bothered. But there is still a piece missing, Harry, dear, because Dumbledore left you with nothing to cling to but a locket and a broken heart." I started. How did she know about the locket?

"Professor, the locket… how do you…?"

"Albus confided in me a bit more than you think, Harry. Yes I know about the locket and your various adventures into that Pensieve. But Harry, as I was saying, you are in a right state. You are looking for solutions to problems that nobody but you can actually solve. Severus is innocent, yes, but the world needs him to be guilty right now, as much as you need everyone to know that his is not. So you must let him be guilty, Harry. You must remember what Albus tried so hard to teach you. This is a war Harry, but the biggest battle shall be within our own hearts, and our own conscience, as we find our roots amongst good and evil, as we find our place in it all. Severus's place was decided by Dumbledore long before Albus's life was decided by him. So as much as you need Severus just now, think of how badly Albus needs you to hate him."

I was dumbfounded. Her wisdom sounded uncannily like Dumbledore's, and her knowledge of my own psychology was rather disconcerting.

She was right, of course, about how badly I needed Severus to act innocent, while Dumbledore's whole plan was to make him guilty. It wasn't fair to him, or to me, but it was what needed to be done. So I would have to survive on just the memories until I got all the Horcruxes. Then, I would find Severus, and together we would do what destiny had always known we would.

I didn't say all this to McGonagall, of course. I just gave her a rather teary smile, a quick hug, and a small nod, before we both started sobbing silently and excused ourselves.

I had never been in greater need of a drink.

"So Bill takes one look at his dress robes and says, 'am I getting married or am I dead?' I mean they were that hideous. Personally, I wouldn't be caught dead in them…" There were scattered giggles throughout the room. Ron shook his lead, smiling, a glass of Firewhisky still half full in his left hand. With his right he squeezed my shoulder.

"Alright there, mate?" he asked, offering his glass, "you look like you could use a couple shots." I smiled appreciatively.

"A nice glass of Firewhisky would be nice, thanks, Ron." I don't usually drink, you see, but in some cases there's just no choice. There was no way I was getting through this wedding sober.

Ron handed me my glass, clinked it with his, and said, "to marriage and happy endings!" We echoed his toast, and as I calmly sipped my drink, I thought how un-Ron that proclamation was. Ron didn't believe in happy endings. He was usually the one who was too scared about the future and instead dwelled on the past. He hid from endings, and was pretty bad at new beginnings, tending to stick to the middle parts, where everything was calculated and arranged the way he liked it. As far as marriage was concerned, Ron was just about the last person I knew who would think about marriage. Perhaps this drink was not among the first of his drinks today.

"So, Harry," Ron said casually, "How're things? I've been wondering about you, mate. No letters, not a word from you all summer, till today! How have you been managing?"

I glanced slowly at my long time best friend, seeing the happiness in his eyes, in the lines of his face. Genuine concern hid behind the joy, and I felt that even if Ron would say every bad thing he could about Severus, I would forgive him. Because if he knew the whole story the way I did, he'd find it in his heart to forgive him, too.

So I said, "Sorry, mate, no time to write. I've been thinking a lot."

"Ouch, must've been a hell of a summer, then."

I chuckled, "That it was. Ron, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, mate, what's up?"

I lowered my voice a bit, leaning forward in my chair. Ron followed my lead, eye brows arched. "It's just, I've been thinking a lot about the Horcruxes and how I'm going to find them. I've found someone who might be of assistance, but I would need to travel with them alone. I know you and Hermione want to help, and I wish you could, but this person wishes to remain anonymous, for fear of being tracked down and killed, by both sides."

"Harry, you're not going anywhere with someone we don't know about! Do you know how dangerous this is?! What if he's really on You-know-who's side and he decides to betray you and bring you to Him?! Are you even thinking straight? We're going with you and that's final. I don't care who this guy is, but whoever he is, he's not getting anywhere near you without mine and Hermione's approval. Heck, as far as I'm concerned, he should have Dumble-" he stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide, and looked down at the floor. "Sorry, mate, never mind that."

"Ron, listen to me. This source is my only chance. I trust this person completely. I cannot tell you why right now, but if you knew my reasons you would trust them too. I promise I will be okay. But you cannot come along, or even try to track me down! If anyone but the two of us knows our whereabouts, we're sunk! I need to do this alone, Ron, and I need you two to trust me."

Ron stood up abruptly and looked down at me, anger pulsating from his face. "Always have to do it on your own in the end, don't you?" he spat, and walked out the front door, slamming it behind him.

a/n: REVIEW PEOPLE!!!! I'm dying here!!!! Ok next chapter should be up soon!! Sorry this one took so long its been hectic these past few months!!


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry people!! This story's going to be on hold for a bit, due to lack of reviews and complete writer's block!!!


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